Goldilocks and the Three Cocks
by Bit Not Good AO3
Summary: Or, How John, The Stripper and Porn Star Extraordinaire, Found His Way Back To The Perfect Cock


John licked his lips and leaned forward, pressing the condom between his lips against the head of the cock sticking through the glory hole. It was dark brown and veiny, and the head was a bit squat for his liking, but John just shrugged and rolled the latex over the shaft, earning a moan as he drew the short erection into his mouth, feeling his own cock harden in Pavlovian response.

"Come on, 'Goldicocks,' hurry up," the cock's owner moaned, thrusting minutely and slamming his palms against the wall. As ever, John was grateful that there was a wall between them- the kind of men who queued up to be sucked by him tended to be hair pullers. Still, he thought as he slid to the base of the man's erection, at least they paid well. He gave an experimental lick with his tongue, then began to suck in earnest.

Luckily, the man came quickly, and he was able to pull back before his jaw started to hurt. With a shrug, he pulled back and rinsed with Listerine, it's still early. A wad of money, pinched between two fingers, slid through the hole, and he tucked it into his back pocket. The hand withdrew, and another cock appeared. It was going to be a long night- at least he only worked the porn stalls once a week.

.

The next day was John's day off, and he took the opportunity to sleep late and have a proper breakfast (the taste of latex tended to put him off foods he'd eaten beforehand, he'd learned. He still couldn't look at cream cheese without feeling nauseated.) Then, he pulled on a loose jumper and jeans, reveling in the lack of chill scant clothing brought, and headed out to do some shopping.

When he'd returned from Tesco, he settled down for a bit of telly and a beer. When day-time telly turned to news and late-night dramas, he switched the machine off, grabbed his keys, and headed for a gay pub a few blocks away. He fancied a shag, and knew that he wasn't too bad-looking and had a pretty good shot at going home with someone tonight.

Two beers in, a tall man sat down beside him and ordered a drink for himself and "another of his, too." John smiled and drained his glass, then stretched out his hand. "John," he informed the man charmingly. The man hummed and took his hand, then leaned in and kissed him.

Any other man would have been shocked by how filthy the kiss was right off the bat, but as John tended to kiss filthily (and other things) for a living, he wasn't too surprised. "Well then," he murmured, pulling away. He reached for the other man's drink, a shot of something dark amber, and swallowed it. John coughed at the burn, then took a sip of his own (refilled) beer to wash the taste down.

The stranger attacked his mouth again, tongue snaking between John's lips. The stripper could feel his cock beginning to tent his pants, and knew that soon there would be no way he'd be able to walk with any self-respect. "Have you got a flat?" he demanded between kisses, moving to attack the man's neck. All he got was a growl in response, and the stranger pulled away and gestured for him to follow before stalking from the building.

Twenty minutes and a cab ride later found John on his knees in the stranger's hotel sucking on the man's cock with gusto. He had a lovely cock, long and pale and slightly curved, and John was sure if they shagged it would feel amazing inside of him. It was exactly the right thickness, too, and as John buried his nose in the man's bush, he realised that even the man's musk was sexy. He hummed, and the motion seemed to send the man over the edge, as he came hard.

John didn't remember everything they did after that, except that he got a blowjob too after that, and while he was lying there in a daze, the other man took the chance to rim him before shagging him senseless. He was pretty sure there were handcuffs involved, after which the man helped him into a cab and sent him home, but if the dry mouth and gummy eyes were anything to go by, he'd been absolutely hammered by the end of it.

However, after that night with the mysterious "tall and handsome," John found that no one could fill his desire for cock quite like that man had, and decided in between shows (dancing to "I Love A Man in Uniform" got old quickly) to stop by the pub his next night off and see if he could find the man again. So a week later found John sitting at the bar with a glass of Coke, determined to stay sober enough to remember the man.

Soon enough a tall man with silver-gray hair slid onto the barstool next to him and grinned. "Evening, mate," he said, offering a hand. "Greg." John shook his hand, subtly examining the man as he did. He could be the stranger… but perhaps not? He was tall and wearing a long coat, not too thick or thin, and he wasn't hard on the eyes, which was where John's memory ended.

John ended up snogging him after he'd had a few beers, and then they were in a back alley, John nipping at his neck before dropping his knees to roll a condom down the man's dick and sucking it into his mouth. Greg gave a muffled shout into his arm, thrusting into John's mouth, and it must have been a long time for him because it only took a few minutes for him to come. John pulled away, tied off the condom, and got to his feet, waving off the man's offer to return the favor. It wasn't him- Greg's cock was too big to possibly be him.

Having not drunk anything except Coke all night, however, John stepped back into the bar and ordered a pint. He was on his second when another man sat down, tall and wearing a long coat, this time on his left, and nodded at him before ordering a scotch. John eyed him surreptitiously, and decided that it was far more likely this man. This time, it was the other man who initiated, and John's hopes rose as he was dragged into a filthy snog. This one felt much closer to what John remembered, and the cologne was even similar. Soon John was kneeling in the back of the man's car (and Christ, the man had a Buick) and tugging him out, pushing a condom down his length and swallowing him easily.

Too easily, he noticed with some disappointment, slurping at the smaller, fatter cock. This man took a bit longer to come, but when he did John brushed off his offer of a ride home and climbed out of the car. This time he didn't go back into the pub, but made his way home instead. He'd already sucked two cocks attached to the wrong person that night, and he wasn't interested in a third.

The next morning found him in the porn stalls again, Listerine and a box of condoms ready at his side. The door on the other side opened and shut and a cock slipped through the hole in the wall. Absently John rolled a lubed condom on and licked at the tip, but it wasn't until he guided it between his lips and gave a good hard suck that he realised what was in his mouth and choked.

He pulled off excitedly and took a swallow of Listerine before swallowing the man's cock again, sucking in earnest and trying his damndest to reduce the man before him to a moaning heap. It didn't take long- John was good at his job- and then he was rolling the condom off and slipping a piece of paper through the hole beside the cock that was slowly going limp, giving the fleshy appendage a gentle stroke as he withdrew his fingers.

The man gave a surprised and vaguely interested "hmm" before pulling out and being replaced by another cock, and oh was John lucky his job required almost no thinking because he found he couldn't think about anything but the strange, perfectly-cocked man for the rest of the night. When he got off work, he pulled on his jacket absently and tugged out his phone to find one message waiting, an address.

It wasn't a long trip from there, and soon John found himself before a flat complex labeled 221 Baker Street. He gave a hesitant knock and a pleasant elderly lady opened the door. "Just go right on up, love, I'm sure he's ready for you." With a frown, John stepped past her and made his way up the stairs, looking around at the seemingly empty and chaotic room.

"Oh good, you're here." John spun to see a tall man standing in the kitchen with a mug of tea in one hand and a file in the other. He lacked a long dark coat, but his hair was long and curly and soft looking, and his lips plush and red, and before he knew it John was stepping forward to invade his space and snog him senseless.

Soon the other man was returning his desperation and tugging at John's shirt, pushing him against a wall. "Wait, wait," John gasped, and dropped to his knees to tug the man's flies open- he had to be sure. He grinned in delight when the long, thin cock popped out and bounced, then slid a condom down and swallowed it completely.

.

Half an hour later found the pair in the man- Sherlock's- bed, John's arse sore and limbs heavy. "Hmm. You've a lovely cock," he murmured, drunk on hormones and riding the high from his orgasm. Sherlock chuckled underneath him and squeezed the back of his neck.

"So I've noticed. My brother and his boyfriend both say you were rather desperate." A loud 'thwack' sounded as John hit him with a pillow, followed by Sherlock's low laughter echoing through the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Prompt for this story from screenshot of the BBC Sherlock kink meme. I found the screenshot, not the prompt, or I'd put the prompt fill link up on the kink meme. But I'm hopeless at kink meme. Someone help me.**

** . /8de5c26659c749a112b0f6be6f2df641/tumblr_mexkv88LgK1re7wlpo5_ **

**Also I suggest you read on AO3 instead of here in order to see the prompt pic, bc apparently doesn't like copypasta from stories anymore. Sorry. **


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